It didn’t do Çiçek any good to dwell on Solomon’s motivations for his actions, and so, for the moment, she didn’t. She had made her decision to venture to the Ridge, for the time being, and as they swam across the ocean to Atlantis, her mind raced with possibility. She wanted to go everywhere, see everything - the beaches her parents had run along during their courtship, the hidden caverns deep within the jungle where her dam had been raised, and so much more. Her heart beat harder the closer they got to the island, and the spotted mare practically ran from the embrace of the waves as her striped hooves gained purchase on the soft white sand beneath them.

Çiçek hastily shook the water from her skin, giving no care to how she looked, and broke her gaze from the shoreline towards the sound of Faolain’s voice. The curiosity in her brown eyes turned to affable warmth, and a grin broke across her lips. “I have nothing to compare this beach to yet,” she replied, “so it’s the best I’ve ever seen.” True enough. This little cove was a bit more closed-off than the wide-stretching sandbars she’d been told about, but there was an intimacy to it, a quiet open-air respite from the cloying reaches of the jungle that only the residents of the Ridge had the privilege to visit. Faolain mentioned the scenery, and as she did so, Çiçek set her sights from the beach to the massive canopy stretching high above them. Her smile widened.

“Well, now, you can’t tell me about these views and not show them to me,” she teased. “I’ve talked enough for today in showing you all those pretty blooms in the Meadow. I would love for you to escort me up the mountain.” She didn’t wait for Faolain to lead the way, bouncily trotting up the shore with a toss of her golden head. As she reached the tree line, the mare dipped her neck low to admire a cluster of frangipani blooms. She leaned in, her face disappearing in the mess of dark green leaves, and withdrew after a moment, clutching the stem of a flower in her mouth. The bright orange and vibrant pink of the petals stuck out against her creamy coat, and as she waited for Faolain’s approach, she extended her muzzle towards the dark mare. These flowers were beautiful… but they would pop against the inky blackness of her escort’s coat. She had half of a mind to weave it into the dark expanse of mane behind the Akhal-Teke’s ear, if she’d let her. Her eyes softened, and her honeyed voice beckoned carefully from around the stem held gently between her teeth.

“May I?”